Way Back Home
by ENICUNAA
Summary: In the midst of an uphill battle, a certain celestial mage hopes to find a way to crawl out from the field of the dead and into a place of home. Little did she know that a reunion would take place after a year of absence from him. (ONE-SHOT, NaLu, Reunion)


_The formatting broke for some reason. ;-:_

**HOME**

The ground slightly shivered at a millisecond, reshaping the country of Fiore. Flames licked its way throughout corridors, while waves of heat penetrated through unharmed corners. The wind exhaled his greatest bellow, forming arcuate clouds of dust and dirt on the base. Her hair once revealed the colors of her confidence, now poked her glistened eyes and could only brush the summits of her shoulders. Soaked in bloodlust, Lucy Heartfilia attempted to crawl through the land of the living-- or should she say-- the fucking dead.

As she limped through the outskirts of Magnolia, there was a time where she halted to observe for a moment.

Her entire view, which brimmed with filed sparks of fire and heat, also surrounded pictures of him.

She squeezed her fist with pressure. It was enough to leak blood out of the clamped grip, but it wasn't enough to cleanse her mind from his smile. Or his grin, his salmon-spiky hair, or his lo-

Lucy bit her lip, needing to savor her own blood instead of him. She needed a distraction or maybe even help.

Then a low growl rumbled between the vermilion field. She sharply turned her head behind her, slowly grasping the dagger on her hip to reduce movement. Squinting, all she could see was smoke dancing into the clouds. Glancing left and right rapidly, she failed to observe until a massive force pushed her body to kiss the ground. The celestial mage skidded a little, forming new cuts and mistakes here and there. Grinding her teeth, she lifted herself promptly to face her opponent with a missing arm but a fulfilled duty.

But as she scorched her way to find his most innermost weaknesses, Lucy found herself mesmerized in the eyes of the man she thought she lov-

"Natsu," said Lucy, glaring intensely than the surrounding flames.

"Lucy," replied Natsu.

"What are you doing here?" she dared to ask.

He didn't answer.

"Talk to me!" demanded the woman.

Silence.

Lucy hastily jerked her arm and snatched all her memories and emotions, placing it in her fist and punched him, only to be halted by his own. Angered, she proceeded to strike his chest repeatedly but Natsu kept a maintaining pace.

"Why--" punch, "won't--" punch, "you-" kick, "talk!"

Her fists were suddenly stopped and was yanked by his arm, pulling her close to his chest. With his other arm he gripped her chin roughly, forcing Lucy to stare at him for the first time in a whole fucking year. He stared back, and a calming silence followed.

The cackling sound of the fire and their breaths stirred together was all that was heard.

At long last, her brown eyes glossed like a fractured window, nearing its defeat once submerged by the crying rain. She vowed to never shed a tear for him, never spend her time on him, but most importantly, never loved him. When she read his letter a year ago, she ran from town to town holding a photo. Lucy asked and asked but the answers were useless. He didn't want to be found. So she let him be and aimed to capture a life without his presence. But it was like writing her life without a fucking pen: it was damn near impossible not having him in everything.

And never had Lucy thought he would come back. Not at this certain time.

"I fucked up. And I know that being sorry isn't gonna cut it," he admitted, softly letting go of his grip, "But i'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Luce."

As her eyes shuttered, glistened tears collide perform a unison on her chin. In that instance, she allowed her head to slowly lean between his neck and shoulder, portraying a discernment of amendment and forgiveness despite the encircling commotion.

She simply exhaled as if it cleansed the bruises and cuts from using his scarred shoulder. And when she inhaled once more, she was abruptly breathing the taste of fire and home.

His eyes and hands were home.

Those carmine orbs never sought to scorch or burn what flawed within fragments of her individuality. No, it often glazed with sweet reassuring, and often did he peeled sweet frostings to reach inside her most unpleasant seasonings. He patched veins and built roads to find pathways into her heart, delving in the state of loving her most miserable mistakes.

He enveloped his heart and sealed it in a package, sending it for her to remember. Stapled with a thousand pins and locks and words, he sustained his promise underneath the burning gaze of his fire. One might judge by his disheveled actions and unnecessary violence but within the coercion of his movements there was fucking love in his eyes.

And now she was finally here to witness them again.


End file.
